


Oh, darling...

by Norwegian_Bird



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norwegian_Bird/pseuds/Norwegian_Bird
Summary: After Paul awakes from a nightmare (that turned out to be quite another type of dream), John decides to give in. Give in to those beautiful hazel eyes, and, through his body, tell Paul everything.Oh, he's going to tell him everything.





	Oh, darling...

Every time John swallowed, it felt like sandpaper. They had recorded "Twist and Shout" earlier that day, and George-fucking-Martin had saved it for last knowing John's voice would sound all ripping at the end of the day. John only managed two takes, and then he didn't have any voice left at all. Despite everything being at an early stage, John was sure he just gave the most throat-shredding performance of his career. And on top of that, he suffered from a cold, and Paul had literally forced warm milk down his throath every fifth minute. Even though John groaned everytime Paul approached with a cup, it wasn't that bad.

But Paul, including the other lads, had gone to bed ages ago.

John glanced out of the window, and sighed under his breath as he watched the nightsky. What a day it had been. Recording that last track had been fifteen minutes-lasting living hell. Paul's performance on "Saw her standing there" had lifted his spirit a bit though, alongside Ringo's hilarious and very charming version of "Boys".

The calming presence of the moon made John slowly close his eyes; his body quietly switching off. It was like his worries, his thoughts, silently burned into smoke as they wondered through the endless night. But _fuck_ , how uncomfortbale this chair was. His throath was already hurting like mad, and the last thing he needed was a croocky back. When the clock struck 02:00 am, John figured it was time he tucked in too.

Sucking on his twenty-fifth "Zube" of the day, he somewhat stumbled to his room. When he passed George and Ringo's room, he made sure a loud barking cough escaped his mouth, and chuckled silently with his tired and sore throath as he heard a very George-like groan responding. When John reached the room he shared with Paul, he closed his fingers over the handle and pushed the door open. 

A small smile crept over John's face as he laid eyes on Paul's sprawling figure in bed. One arm was hanging loosely off the bed along with a bare leg, but the rest of his body was turned away from John and facing the wall. The covers reached him just above the chest. As John stepped towards the bed, he pulled his shirt off in a swift movement, and did the same thing with his trousers. Paul's body shifted ever so slightly at the sound of John's belt colliding with the stone cold floor, but the younger boy never gained consiousness.

Only in his underwear now, John crept under the blanket with a sigh. He heard the smallest little murmur next to him, and he turned his head to see that the boy besides him had turned so that he was now facing him. John took a moment to stare at his thick eyelashes, his baby-like expression and his barely parted lips. John eventually stretched a hand over to the nightstand to turn the lamp off. And then, he couldn't see Paul or anything in the room anymore. Wheter John did it intantially or not, he had leaned his head closer to Paul's, and he could practically feel his peaceful breathing on his neck as his heavy eyes closed. He was beginning to feel himself drifting away...

_"Oh, god-"_

John's eyes instinctually snapped open at the sound of Paul's quivery whisper against his neck. He glanced at the boy, but he was unseeable in the dark. Despite not touching him, John could feel his body quivering along with his voice. John brought a hand to Paul's shoulder in an attempt to stop it. He gripped it rather tightly when it didn't seem to have any effect.

"What was that, Macca?"

Paul's body shivered, but then stilled. He must've dreamt, John figured. A part of him felt like staying awake for a bit longer, just in case. But before he registered, the blackness came over him again. It didn't take long before his consiouness ebbed, his mind soon going into free fall.

_"Please..."_

It was barely a whisper, but not even the land of dreams could keep John from recognizing the voice, and immidatley returning to consiousness. The first thing John did was to swtich the lamp back on, and rub his eyes to get a clearer view of his surroundings. He realised that something pressed on his wrist, almost hurtfully. He looked down to see Paul's fingers gripped around it, his nails digging into his skin. John turned his body slightly, confused, finding himself only inches away from Paul and his pained expression.

"Paul?"

Paul's breathing was becoming more rapid, and John took notice of the droplets of sweat on his forehead.

"Paulie? he called softly, trying to hide his concern, "Paulie, what is it?"

A small sound escaped Paul's lips, but it sounded almost like a cry, and John suddenly wanted nothing more than to bring Paul back from whatever he was hurting from. Bring him back to where he could take care of him. Bring him back to his best mate.

Paul was pale. Really pale. John twisted himself out of Paul's grip, and slowly, very gently, brought Paul's hand to rest over his waist. Hesitantly at first, he brought his hand around Paul's shaking body too. He got used to the unfamiliar feeling, and pressed his hand onto Paul's back in order to pull him closer. Paul, in his sleep, snuggled into him, only the covers seperating him from John's bare chest. His breathing was only getting heavier, and John leaned down and brought his mouth to Paul's ear in an attempt to wake him up - or at leat bring him outta' that bad dream.

"M' right here, y'know Paulie."

 _"John,"_ Paul said, nearly squeaked. _"Johnny..."_

 John's eyes widened in surprise at Paul's referring to him as 'Johnny.' But to be honest, it was a nice surprise. It felt nice.

"That's right, Macca. M'right here. "

 _"John..."_ Paul said, but this time in a low voice, almost like a growl, and it startled John. _"Need you-"_ Paul stated, his voice cracking.

He was now clinging onto John's back with both hands. John instinctually lifted his head from the pillow, now watching the younger man's face. His expression didn't look as pained and troubled as before, but still very tense. He was really far away, John figured, almost too far for he's liking. On an impulse, John tossed his covers off the bed, immidiatley feeling the chill inside the room. He slowly reached for Paul's cover and pulled it over himself.

They were now a bit further apart, but since Paul needed him, John figured he should move back into position. In a quick and determined move, John pulled Paul into him, a moan escaping Paul's lips as he somewhat collided with John's bare chest. John's hand supported his head, the other one reassuringly holding onto his back. Paul's body against John's, just like that. Pulled togheter, but fitting perfectly.

John's lips curled into a little smirk; what was it that Lennon-McCartney possibly accomplished better seperate, than together?

_"Fuck, John-"_

 John arched an eyebrow in confusion, but the confusion soon turned into realisation, and realisation into shock, as John felt something pressing against his hip. Paul wasn't having a bad dream. Not at all, and it hit John as hard as a cobble-stone from twenty floors.

"Paul, what are ya-"

_"So beautiful..."_

The younger boy's expression had again turned to look slightly pained, but not in the same way as before. It was the same expression as when you look at someone really good-looking, and you almost can't believe it, the least to say that they were yours. Nobody had ever looked at John like that before, but he had seen it many times on other people's faces. Paul looked pleased, despite pained. Peaceful, despite quivering. Soft, despite the frown on his face. The light from the lamp and the sweat on his face made his skin sparkle, and the only thing John wanted more than to look at it, was to feel it against his own.

He was entranced.

"Yes, Paul. So beautiful."

The words came out louder than intended, clearer, and maybe that's what caused Paul's body to jump out of John's grip and into a sitting position. John couldn't see his eyes opening, only saw the back of his head. The sweat had somewhat sleeked his dark hair and slightly curled it at the neck.

And when Paul turned his face to John's, and their eyes met, he felt something he hadn't felt before. So many times, they had looked each other in the eyes, but never, ever like this. Maybe Paul noticed it to, becaues his still-very-confused, wide eyes nervously darted away from John's gaze as he still caught his breath,

"S-sorry, John. Think I dreamt."

John sat up next to Paul, both of their legs under the same cover. "Oh, I think you did."

Paul's head snapped his way again, his eyes seeking John's anxiously. Nervous that he might've said something, or done something, that gave his dream away. Paul's eyes searched intensly, burning into John's, but John's eyes moved on to something else. No matter how much he tried to resist, his eyes seeked one thing - and one thing only. John couldn't immidiatley tell if Paul noticed how he looked at his barely parted, soft lips.

John found his eyes again, taking a moment to admire the brilliant hazel that always sparkled whenever music filled his ears. The same that grow dim and dark whenever he was tired. The smooth green on the edge contrasted beautifully with the amber color in the middle, capturing John in a way he'd never experienced before.

He brought a hand up to Paul's cheek, his thumb dragging across Paul's jaw and Paul's body seemed to tremble. Paul held John's eyes for a moment before he turned away, forcing John to let go of him.

"I know it, Macca. I fucking now it." John assured him, but not in a harsh way. His voice was soft though hoarse, barely a whisper. But Paul didn't respond. John knew he had to do this another way. He offered the younger boy a cheeky smile, "Well, tell me at least, whether I was any good or not?"

Paul turned to John again, his eyes wide and shocked - somewhat hurt. He just looked at him for a moment, considering his next move. Finally, he pressed his lips together and layed down on the bed, as far away from John as possible.

"C'mon, Paulie, I want to know."

"You got it all wrong, John." Paul said firmly, but there was a hint of hurt in his tone.

It was exactly too much. Something gave in John like old floorboards rotting through, insistent memories of him and Paul, all the moments shared and glances exhanged. The instant joy every time Paul entered the room, or when he came over to his house unnannounced - just to be with John. He had had enough. John, on his knees in the bed, surprised Paul with the sudden movement and taking advantage. He pulled Paul by his biceps and up on his knees, now facing John, adrenaline coursing painfully all throught both of them.

"You're lying." John said, yanking Paul closer because of the adrenaline taking control of his body, and it was better than every other possibility at hand.

"N-no-," Paul said, and John was thrilled to hear him stammer. Paul's eyes were very wide, very dark. His bent leg was against John's side. "M'not."

"Well enough, Paulie," John said with a half-mature sneer, knowing he was about to step over the line with his next words. He drew a pleased, almost pained, expression as he closed his eyes and imitated him, _"Oh god, Johnny."_

Paul's chest hitched as he made a strange sound, a sound John couldn't quite place, but was part choked breath. Despite John making fun of him, Paul couldn't deny that the sight of John's face like that made his legs tremble. He took hold of John's arm but didn't shove him off, and John feared that his heart would give out if it was to obliged to beat at this manic pace for much longer.

"John, that wasn't-" Paul began, and then his voice withered suddenly as if he had been singing for hours. He looked at John, his eyes shuttered and his mouth making an unstabe curve. "Wasn't what it looked like."

"Liar," John hissed through his teeth without thinking any further, almost breathless. It felt so good in his mouth that he said it again, _"Liar,"_ and then he pulled Paul down with so much force that Paul whined, and then he kissed him.

Paul responded immidiatley, tipping his head to the side and opening his mouth, and giddiness rocketed through John. The feeling of Paul's fierce, demanding, deperate, yet oh-so-soft lips against his own took his breath away. Never like he had imagined it. It was so, so much, fucking better. His mind sang like an aria, _liar liar liar._

Paul pushed his hand out of the cover and curled his fingers over John's bare shoulder. Good thing John was lying, because when Paul sank his fingers into John's hair and hooked his ankle around the back of John's leg, he felt like his legs were giving up on him.

John threw the cover off of them, wanting to feel all of Paul. He took a moment to admire him, his soft, pale, skin and his long, bare legs. The sight made a moan unintentionally escape John's lips, and that seemed to do it for Paul.

Paul rose to his knees and pulled John close to him by the neck and pressed his lips towards his. A part of John wanted to pull away before he completely lost himself, but he just couldn’t do it. In this minty moment, his senses was seduced and he could no longer think straight.

“Paul...” he whispered slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them.

Paul pulled John even closer, his heart fluttering at John's voice as he clasped his hands on either side of his face. Never before had Paul's name ever felt so wonderful out loud, he thought, as he leaned in for another. Unexpectedly, John's hand drifted to Paul's hip. It settled there for a while, Paul inhaling sharply at the touch. The inhale turned into a gasp when John pushed their hips together.

Paul looked John sincerely in the eyes, and splayed his hand against his. John was sure that Paul intended to push him away, but instead he left it there. Paul's breathing quickened as did his. John began nuzzling Paul's neck with delicate kisses. So faint, they were whisperes. Paul's body began to tremble uncontrallably. His head was angled slightly to the side as John's lips came closer and closer to his own. Paul's arms tangled around his strong neck in an effort to push his lips even closer to his skinn.

Paul's lips were already parted when John was inches from him, their breaths mingeling. Something suddenly caught John's attention, and Paul followed his eyes to their hands to see their entwined fingers. For a moment, neither said anything, and the only sound filling the room was the echoing of their heavy breathing. But then, Paul squeezed John's hand. The small action made John's eyes find Paul's in an instant, his unfocused gaze settling on his breathtaking eyes. It was the only thing John needed in order to squeeze it back.

John took Paul's face in his hands, and leaned in for another kiss. Only this time, it wasn't fierce or hard, but somehow even more passionate. When their lips oh-so-barely touched, they lingered against each other, feeling each other. John's hands were still cupping Paul's face, and Paul's thumb dragged gently across John's jaw, and then his bottom lip. John shivered from the contact, and closed his eyes along with the distance between them with one, small, fullfilling kiss. The sound of their lips meating and parting made John's heart skip a beat.

"Johnny..." Paul whispered against his mouth, and the sheer pleasure of the way he said it made a low groan escape John' lips.

John pressed his forhead against Paul's, capturing his eyes - his lovely, hazel eyes. And then Paul smiled at him. Not like he smiled to those fucking bastard, just to be polite. God damn it, he is always so polite. He smiles to him now - so bloody intoxicating. His scent, his eyes, eveything about him is.

"God, love," John whispered, slowly shaking his head, "you're fucking beautiful, y'know that?"

Paul shuddered and inhaled sharply, snuggling his forhead against John as his eyes burned into John's intense, brown ones. He decided, in that moment, to completely give in to John. Give him everything that he was.

"Love?" Paul whispered so sweetly, almost as if he wasn't sure he heard right.

"Yes," John assured him as he brought his hands to Paul's chest and suddenly pushed him onto his back, _"Love."_

Paul made space for John between his legs as he followed down. The feeling of John's weight was better than in his imagination. He felt safe, so safe in his embrace. When their hips pressed together, Paul gasped, and John took advantage, kissing him hard. Paul's body shifted a critical gear, curving to match John's hips and groaned into his mouth, feeling it clearly when John flashed a grin. It was all so easy. Never done itbefore, but it was all so easy. Almost natural, like they both knew exactly what to do.

John broke away, panting, and rolled his forehead on Paul's. His palms were hot and flat on Paul's ribs.

"Tell me." John said breathlessly, grinding his hips down into Paul's at a maddening pace.

Paul's mouth found its way to John's neck and stuck there for a while. That particular gasping rustling chorus grew urgent between them. Paul scraped his teeth and John moaned. It struck Paul harder than the best music, the prettiest song.

"Tell you what, Johnny?"

"Please, Paul," John whispered into his ear, "need to hear you say it."

Immidiatley, without a flicker of doubt or hesitant in his tone, he murmured, "I want you, John. Want all of you"

John licked his lips, "Christ, do ya mean that Paul?"

Paul, finding it the best way of 'meaning' it, brought his hands down to the only clothing left on John's body and lifted his head to seek his lips again. In one swift movement, Paul pulled them off, and it caused John to stop dead in his tracks for a moment. John's hands, now driven by arousal and adrenaline, soon responded to Paul's sloppy kiss and pulled Paul's off aswell. Both of them groaned, feeling their manhoods pressed together.

John buried his head in the croock of Paul's neck, and shivered as Paul whispered in his ear,

"All of you, Johnny."

John lifted his head and faced Paul again, and just as he was about to reply, Paul took his face in his hands. He kissed his jawline, his neck, his collarbone. Kissing every inch, even on his chest. John bit Paul's earlob and caused a soft moan to escape Paul's lips. That was it. John couldn't do it anymore.

"Paul," John said, breathlessly, "may I-"

"Yes." Paul breathed at once.

John's lips curled into a little smirk as he kissed Paul again. He slid his fingers down Paul's body until he brushed the top of his hip. John's head spun, arousal smothering him, suffocating. John sucked on Paul's bottom lip before he met Paul's blackened eyes. His hands were lowering, and he clearly felt Paul's body trembling,

"Yeah?" John asked.

"Please, John."

John pushed his tounge into Paul's mouth and Paul's arms went around his neck. The cry that escaped Paul's lips as John's fingers curled around him, was almost enough to throw him off edge.

"Fucking hell, Paul."

Paul hissed, biting at John's lip. John was panting, pulling Paul off with no grace or rhythm or melody. It was all messy and uncoordinated.

It was lovely, John thought, _lovely._

John pressed his face, his open pleading mouth to the smooth stretch of John's throath, feeling driven just so slightly out of his mind at the feeling of Paul's trembling body under his own. And then, Paul's head fell back with a whine that sent a shiver of pleasure through John's body.

"Look at me, Macca," John pleaded with a lack of breath, "need to see you."

And Paul did, his eyes locked on John's as one of his hands pulled John's hair and the other pressing his back down on his own body. The expression on Paul's face, the agony of his pleasure, was an image John would come to savour forever. As would he, with the curent feeling of wet spreading under his hand.

"Jesus Christ-" John tried, but before he could register, Paul used his strength to flip them around fiercely, John now under Paul.

John moaned at the feeling of Paul over him, but it fainted with the desperate kiss he was recieved. Heaven, John thought, that for a moment, he was in heaven.

But he was wrong. He was even wrong about it when Paul attacked his jaw, neck, collarbone and chest with sloppy kisses. He was even wrong when his tounge slid down his body, resting just above his hips. But the moment Paul braced a hand on John's stomach, leaned forward and took him in with a small happy sigh, John was in heaven. Paul was far gone, but he heard John's cry aboce him clearly, his fingers twisting in Paul's hair, his hips wrenching forward. It was all so natural.

Paul quickly learned the rhythm of it, the slick twist of his hand, the roll of his head. John clutched his hair and moaned through gritted teeth, and Paul knew in that exact moment, that this was it. This was everything.

When John's stomach tightened and his back curved in, Paul stopped and pulled away. John whined and tried to push him back down, but Paul was already back in position over John.

"I told you, darling," Paul whispered as his thumb tracked John's jawline, "I wanted _all_ of you."

John's eyes widened. Words left him for a moment, as the realisation of what Paul asked for hit him. His eyes burned into Paul's, seeking the truth behind his words. The arousal was consuming, and John swallowed as he gave Paul the chance to change his mind,

"Y'sure, love?"

Paul placed a soft kiss on John's jaw, "Never been more sure of anything, Johnny."

John straightened with Paul in his lap, kissing him lovingly on the lips. Paul wrapped his legs around John's waist as they kissed and licked their way into each other's mouths. John growled as Paul gripped him unexpecetedly. His hand was working slowly up and down, then circled around John's tip with his thumb. When John's breath was becoming heavy again, too heavy, he flipped Paul over.

"Paul, hand me the lotion in the drawer." John breathed as he kissed his neck softly.

Paul's hands went backwards and felt around in the drawer for the much sought after lotion tube. He pressed it into John's hands, handing over so much of himself with it.

"Okay, love?"

"Yeah." Paul whispered, truthfully.

Soon, he felt a finger press into him. Despite the burning feeling, he felt an arousal over having John inside of him. Once assuring him he was alright, John pressed in another. John kept on placing soft kisses all over his face all along, assuring him that he was there. That it was only him. His John.

Paul understood what was about happen once he felt the unfamiliar feeling of John positioning there. He threw his head backwards on the pillow and met John's gaze. The way John looked at him, the way is eyes searched for approval in his own, the way he cared, was all Paul would ever need.

"Paul, I wanted to-" John started, but his voice cracked, and he looked away, a bit ashamed at himself. "Just wanted to, y'know-" he tried again, but failed. John's head was directed back to Paul's gaze by a thumb under his chin. He didn't say anything, but Paul's face told him everything he wanted to hear.

He was his.

He'd always been, really. His beautiful and bright eyes that seemed to call on him like a moth to a flam. He wanted to drown in them for eternity.

"I love you."

Paul exhaled sharply, his hand curling around John's neck and bringing him down to him, their forheads pressed together as their breaths mingled. "And I love you, John. Always have."

And then, John filled Paul in a way that seemed to bring them both out of their bodies. For Paul, it was a mixture of pain and pleasure, but when John captured the moan that escaped his lips, he couldn't feel anything but whole. The wave of pleasure surged through them both and made them groan into each other's mouths. Paul pressed John tighter down on him, and signalised for him to go faster. Harder.

John immidiatley obeyed, proving his love with every thurst. Their eyes never left each other, afraid to miss out on anyting. In the twilight room, their fingers caressed each other's skin as if afraid a heavier touch would break the heady magic. They became one. One body, sweaty and yet so beautiful at the same time. One mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other. Their fingers entwined as Paul cried in pleasure, and John watched as he threw his head back and collapsed. John followed seconds later, his breathing rapid as the liquid left him inside Paul. Inside his Paul.

Fingers still entwined, legs still wrapped around each other, John rolled of Paul and quickly pulled him into his arms. Paul snuggled into John's chest and threw his arm over his waist. John took a soft hold on Paul's neck and buried his nose in his hair, kissing him on the head.

Not a word was spoken, but everythig was said. He was his. Paul was his, and there was not a fucking thing anyone could do about it. He had been his since they saw each other for the first time in Woolton on 6 July at the St. Peter's Church garden fête.


End file.
